


Haunted Hearts

by Karios



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Happy halloween, M/M, ToT: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: A lousy haunted house gives Jack and Ianto a good reason to go on a date. Like everything else when it comes to them, it's complicated.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NancyBrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. You were such a fun recipient to write for. Thank you for making my first exchange a great experience.

Weevil catching was a chore any time of year, but in late October, it came with the added complication of excited onlookers who assumed they were some kind of festive prank. Torchwood had just finished cleaning up after some poor sod who’d tried to bring one of them home, and met his end.

“I’m calling it a day,” Jack announced as they turned back to the Hub. “There’ll be enough crowds out soon to more than likely drive any remaining trouble back underground.”

“Anyone feel like a haunted house then?” Ianto asked stopping briefly to consult the handmade sign advertising an amateur version of one such establishment.

A unified “no” was followed by collective murmurs. Gwen was first to excuse herself. “Rhys needs me home. Joinin’ 'im for candy duty and scary films marathon.”

“Rain check,” Tosh agreed. “I actually like Halloween. One of the rare times you can be invited to a stranger's. I could use a beer and company.”

Owen opted for a far less polite approach and laughed. “We’re bloody living inside Halloween mate. I’m going on home, fix dinner, and sleep until November.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he intoned as his co-workers split off for their respective homes.

Jack grinned and tugged Ianto in for a short kiss which brightened his mood considerably. “Guess it's just us then.”

* * *

 

Ianto found the display lamer than he’d hoped. Grapes coated in gelatin felt nothing like eyeballs no matter how dark it was, and cold spaghetti and pumpkin innards were nothing like any kind of intestine he’d ever mopped. It only belatedly dawned on him that the majority of Welsh citizens visiting hadn't had repeated personal experience with human (and not so human) viscera to know the difference.

“Couldn't they research?” he whispered in Jack’s ear.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, the creepiest thing about this place is that it's probably growing mould.”

Ianto took another glance around the dim house and agreed, the cobwebs and creaking floorboards weren't decorating or audiotapes but basic disrepair. “You’re probably right about that.”

“Maybe there’s something better upstairs?” suggested Jack, and together they shuffled up the short set of steps on the far side of the room. While Jack moved on ahead, a teen in some kind of generic Poundland goblin mask snatched at Ianto, who reflexively wrapped his free hand around the boy’s wrist. In the seconds it took the older man’s mind to register 'not a threat' he must have clamped down fairly tight because the kid let out a yelp. That served to snap Ianto out of it and the Welshman stumbled backward into the room, apologising profusely. Over the sound of his own apologies Ianto heard something he couldn't quite make out like 'hey, wait' before he crashed into Jack. He grabbed two good fistfuls of vintage coat, hesitant to fall in the pitch black space but only succeeded in taking Jack down with him.

Working at Torchwood had given Ianto plenty of experience in rough and tumble situations, and Jack had his fair share of combat. Jack knew exactly what it felt like to crash through walls, floors, or anything that was meant to separate inhabitants from the outside. When they collapsed against the floor of the not-so-haunted house, it gave way like tissue paper. If Jack had any time to process the ease with which they fell through, he likely would’ve felt vindicated by his accusations of mould. They fell through air, wind rushing across them at speeds Jack knew would’ve been impossible for even a five story drop, let alone the span they should have been falling.

Seconds passed, feeling more like eternity. They fell and fell, hurtling through a blend of distorted images and colours, and blank space, like a set of five televisions playing different films all flickering out of sync. It was dizzying, beautiful, and as disorienting as the sense of endless falling.

Until, all at once, it ended.

The first observation Ianto made once it was over was that he landed more softly than expected, the second was that Jack has broken his fall, and with fewer clothes this could be a very enviable position indeed. When Jack propped himself on his elbows and brushed against him just so...it obliterated the last vestige of non-carnal thought. Ianto blamed the second of these two revelations for making him miss several obvious things: it was too bright, too quiet, and they weren't indoors.

“Ianto, get up,” Jack’s muffled voice instructed from underneath him.

“Yes, sir.”

Ianto scrambled dutifully to his feet, and offered Jack a hand up. Jack straightened his clothes, dusted himself, and stretched out each limb. No damage.

“You alright?” he asked Ianto.

“You broke my fall, sir.”

“Habit for us, isn't it?”

Ianto smirked. “Any idea what’s happened?”

Jack had an idea when he first heard the burst of harmonica music that had him stopping in the middle of that room to begin with. Lately out of place music meant time travel, but to when? Jack took a panoramic look. They were on a hillside, grassy, damp with recent rain. It was chilly but not cold, with buildings out in front of them in the horizon. In all, not terribly much to go on, in terms of when or where even. “Let's head toward civilization and find out.”

They don’t even close half the distance between them and the row of homes or shops before, somewhere, a train sounded its whistle.

“We’re somewhere before the Second World War,” amended Jack.

Ianto sometimes took the time to evaluate situations as if he were a normal person. One who didn't round up aliens on the regular. He felt it was an important skill, in the slim but possible event he didn't spend the rest of his life working for Torchwood or he wanted to have a conversation with other human beings beyond signing the slip and making change for the takeaway deliverer. A normal person would have been upset to travel through time, but that was just simple rift activity. A normal person would question how a train narrowed down where they were in time, but Jack could have catalogued the quality or tune of train whistles for decades now. Ianto concluded his normal person assessment, and was momentarily overjoyed at the prospect of standing in history. Jack had plenty of money, he knew that much, so Ianto saw no good reason to take this interruption as anything other than a holiday. Take in a meal, pad his wardrobe with a couple of vintage suits or...his own version of Jack’s coat, see one of London’s earliest films in a newly opened cinema.

Jack glanced sideways at Ianto. He hadn't said much and Jack wondered briefly if the other man was in shock, or if Ianto’s unflappable demeanor really did extend to being sucked backwards several decades in time. He looked almost happy as they trudged along, a contrast that ebbed Jack’s dull sense of worry.

They reached the street where an ink-smudged boy bellowed headlines and pushed newspapers. Jack broke away from Ianto and engaged the young merchant in enough distracting conversation to buy time to scan the front page for the date.

Ianto watched as Jack backed out of conversation and away from crowds before taking on the dull-eyed look he’d grown to know familiarly. Jack sunk against the wall of some kind of shop advertising jarred eel as though his knees could no longer hold him. Ianto stepped in close, his hands hovering in mid-air, prepared to catch his captain if necessary. “Jack,” he hissed, “what is it?”

“It’s November 30th, 1909,” he supplied quietly, “I’m already here,” he elaborated in a more strained whisper. “In a few days I meet Estelle, and her ‘friends’, ship off...”

As Jack kept talking, Ianto felt the joy drain from him. While there were likely many darker spots in Jack’s history, he knew how the 'fairies' weighed on him. From the interior of the shop the proprietor glared at them, likely not a fan of loiterers smearing his windows. Ianto tugged Jack more solidly to his feet and nudged him in the direction of an alley which was thankfully more private. “Maybe we’re here to stop the other men, save that first child.”

Jack shook his head. “Too much of a paradox. Could trap us both in this time period or worse. It’s bad enough I managed to drag someone back in time, again.”

“I wouldn't call this entirely your fault,” Ianto shot back. “And I won't hold it against you if we end up stuck.” Sure, there was always a possibility the rest of the team would have trouble pulling them back to the present, but there was little use dwelling on the possible downside. It was akin to boarding an aeroplane and expecting it to crash.

“You can't mean that,” murmured Jack.

“What have I lost from a hundred years in the future if you're here?”

Jack made a move to answer, but Ianto cut him off with a brief but firm kiss. A silence stretched on for a few moments which Ianto broke.

“It will take the team some time to conclude we’ve gotten lost and get everything set up to pull us back to the present without ripping Cardiff apart.” Ianto held up one hand and ticked off on his fingers the possible negative outcomes. “If the updated rift machine doesn't work, or scrambles us like eggs, or throws us about in time like colliding billiard balls, or whatever gloom you’ve conjured up for us, then we should at least spend the wait having fun.”

A hint of Jack’s usual mischievous demeanour returned. “Have anything in mind?”

“I had a few ideas,” replied Ianto evenly.

“I’ll need a bank.”

“I'll be waiting.”

* * *

 

Over the course of the next two days, Ianto soaked in his role as time tourist. Their first stop was Selfridge’s for much-needed attire update, or downdate as the case were. Jack shook his residual gloom as they moved up and down aisles selecting new outfits. Thankfully already being a suit man, the new period attire was not a drastic change; Ianto would definitely keep these at the Hub if and when they returned to the present. One the way out, they made a pit stop to see Blériot channel-crossing monoplane on display. Also on the itinerary was a trip to the newly separated science museum, and he did get his film. They both agreed it was a relief the cinema was not named the Electro. They ate their way through all available early twenty-century dining out options, and were just finishing a platter of gravied meats and potatoes at a chophouse when a message came in, and Jack discreetly checked his pocket.

“Good news,” Jack announced. “They say it should only be a few more hours.”

“Good, we have one more errand to run.”

“What now?” asked Jack, his expression crinkled with amusement. "We haven't finished your list yet?"

“A visit to the Astoria ballroom.”

Jack faltered, and his smile disappeared. "There's no reason to go there. I told you I don't want to risk changing anything." 

“You’ve had to watch her die, Jack, more than once. All your memories. They are of heartbreak and goodbyes. Go see her live.”

* * *

 

Their trip was brief. Initially they kept their distance watching the other Jack interact with Estelle. Then someone appeared at the other Jack’s side, and whisked him off.

Ianto nudged present-day Jack. “There's your chance. Go.”

“No. We just came to look...I don't even know how long I was gone,” protested Jack.

“Exactly, I doubt you were away from a woman you pledged your life to for very long, so stop arguing with me before you miss your chance.”

“Ianto, you don't...you shouldn't have to. You can't possibly want me to.”

“Wrong. Because if that were Lisa across that room, if I could replace that last terrible memory with one of her alive and happy, I would take it.” Ianto shoved Jack in the right direction.

“Thank you,” Jack said when it was over and his original 1909 counterpart had collected Estelle again.

“Any time.”

* * *

 

“New message. It says, ‘Are you two about ready?’ I think Owen and Gwen are manning now, they included an angry emote.”

“I guess we should get on back then.” Ianto rolled his eyes.

“You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

Jack shot him a look.

“Okay. Not entirely,” clarified Ianto. “I don't want to stay. Not looking forward to living through some of the darkest parts of history. But this was...nice,” he finished weakly.

“Yeah, it was.”

Jack reached down and typed a response. A white light opened like a doorway behind him, growing in intensity until it's blinding and they are both forced to shut their eyes against it. Jack set his his hand in Ianto's and together they stepped into the light.

* * *

 

They return uneventfully, landing by the not-so-haunted house. “Let's go home.”

The walk back to the Hub is short and quiet. When they arrive, their team offers obligatory congratulations, but Jack see they are significantly bleary-eyed.

“For returning us home safely, you all earned tomorrow off," Jack announced in his best setting forth a decree voice. "Go on home and get some sleep.”

“Thank god,” cried Tosh, who snapped her mouth shut with force as though she’d not intended to be blunt aloud.

Owen gave a predictable grumble about “the boss’s stingy generosity,” but smiled as he ducked out.

Gwen was last to leave, and gave both Ianto and Jack lingering hugs. “He means ‘thank you’ too. Glad you're home safe. By the way, there's leftover candy on my desk, if you want some.”

“Thanks. Good night Gwen.”

She walked off and Jack waited for the door to shut behind her before turning his gaze to Ianto.

“Well we’ve already had our Halloween trick, how about a Halloween treat?”

Ianto pulled him in for a good long snog. “You have something in mind?”

Jack chuckled along Ianto’s jaw. “Don't I always? Let’s just say there's more than one way to use up candy?” He let his fingers trail suggestively.

Ianto cracked a smile. “I’ll meet you in your room in five?”

“Bring the stopwatch, and your new coat...”


End file.
